


Tainted Love

by Redd000



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: #GiveNorthAGun, Fluff, Friendship, Murder BFFs, One-Sided Attraction, Ride-or-Die friendship, Sixty has a crush on North
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 12:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18604636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redd000/pseuds/Redd000
Summary: “So, what’s new with you? You roll any heads lately?” he asked after her laughter sobered to light giggles. She took a breath, fully ready to answer with the usual small talk routine that everyone followed:How are you? I’m fine and you? I’m fine too. That’s good!Instead, she went off script and said, “I need a gun.”“Okay,”Sixty said with a slight chuckle after stopping to blink in confusion several times. He finally closed his eyes and shook his head, his face pinched in amusement at the abrupt absurdness of her request. “Fuckingwhy?"An old regular from North’s Eden Club days is attempting to blackmail her during a Jericho event and Markus, ever the pacifist, won’t allow her to handle the situation herself. More than upset, she turns to the only android that tends to understand her frustrations (and might be willing to actually help her out): Sixty Anderson.





	Tainted Love

“Turn it off!” North snapped. There was a tremble in her voice and the desire to vomit was overcoming her senses. She felt sick. Sick and so very, very angry.

Markus had the sense to listen, pausing the video not even a second after North’s demand. The man on the screen, the human, had taken the liberty of blurring his face—lest anyone recognize _him_ in the video. He had left North’s clear as day.

Like most androids, North shared her face. The WR400 model had been popular, especially in Eden. She could easily walk around the streets of Detroit without being recognized as Markus’ girlfriend or as a leader of Jericho. By the humans, anyway. Humans didn’t have the ability to identify an android without a scanner. But those scanners _did_ exist. They could read through a screen and match an android’s face to a registered name. It helped to report crimes, find missing persons, or (in this case anyway) verify a Jericho leader for blackmail.

“Do you know him?” Markus asked. She did. His name was Charles ‘Chuckie’ Pugh. A fat, forty-seven-year-old man who, in his prime, was the star quarterback of his high school football team (although not ‘star’ enough as he couldn’t even come close in college). Now, he worked as a shift manager in a food-chain restaurant. He was single, in a horrendous amount of debt, and was constantly teetering on the BMI scale between overweight and obese; in danger of Type II diabetes if he didn’t get his eating habits under control.

None of these characteristics had stopped him from both dressing and acting like the jock he had been in his high school glory days. A man living in the past, bragging about talents that had been lost to him some thirty-plus years ago. He still even wore his gaudy class ring. It gold; the name of his high school wrapped around the thick band that showed off a large, oval-cut ruby set in the center.

The ring was how North had recognized him. He used to frequent the Eden Club and would ask for her specifically, sometimes even calling in advance. The pre and post sex was filled with the obnoxious details of his life. All his accomplishments in high school, his stupid class ring, his current work life—

Then there was the sex. It was brutally cruel. Something very few human women favored, and the ones that did were gifted the security of safe words. The roughness had always struck North as unnecessary considering how she had to listen to his every demand at the time, and breaking and damaging her, as he often did, did nothing but wrack up his debt even more. Charles Pugh had been fined for many expensive repairs on her body.

“When was this sent?” she asked. She hadn’t answered Markus’ question and while she knew that was going to upset him, she still felt irritated when he expressed his frustrations by making a face. Markus liked knowing things but he sometimes struggled tounderstand that not everyone wanted to be an open book. It was almost like he forgot that certain topics could be considered sensitive to some people and that a _lot_ of those topics revolved around North. He miraculously didn’t push it and she found herself thankful for the small mercies.

“This morning,” he said.

“What does he want?”

“Money,” Markus said. North scoffed in disgust and shook her head.

“Do humans have no dignity?”  
  
“Most do,” Markus said with a sympathetic smile. This was another thing she hated about him. His impulsive _need_ to play devil’s advocate about fucking _everything!_ His complete inability to just let her vent without trying to offer some kind of pacifist, love-thy-neighbor advice. She wasn’t going to bend this time. She absolutely refused.  
  
“Well, Charles Pugh certainly doesn’t,” she snapped, throwing a pointed finger at the screen. “He’s filth, Markus! Scum of the earth and now he’s—he’s what? Trying to blackmail me?”

“Essentially.” Markus grabbed a sheet of paper off his desk and handed it to her. She nearly snatched it out of his hand in her anger, reading over it with a growing sense of dread. “He wants two hundred thousand dollars.”

“He’s going to release this video during your Traci-Awareness Speech?” she asked, absolutely disgusted. She started to read right off the page. “ _‘If my demands aren’t met by the end of the speech, I will release the evidence that that Jericho bitch is nothing but a dirty whore’_ I wasn’t _deviant_ then, Markus! I couldn’t tell him no! I couldn’t tell him to stop! This is just a rape video he’s threatening to release! What does he possibly think he’s going to gain from this?”

“I don’t know,” Markus said with a heavy sigh. Markus, on North’s behalf and insistence, had set up the Traci-Awareness event to help humans better understand and sympathize with their android counterparts. It was meant to help encourage victims of sexual assault and abuse to speak out, support one another, and raise awareness and funds to help prevent further acts of violence against both species. A charity. One that North had organized and had been looking forward to all week.  
  
“Josh believes that this could go one of two ways,” Markus started, albeit a bit hesitant. That usually meant that North wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. “The humans could look at this—” he gestured toward the screen “—see it as rape, sympathize with you and other androids that have suffered which would just further the Traci-Awareness cause…”

He trailed off, nervously chewing on his lip. It was obvious he didn’t believe that. She didn’t either. Humans were monsters. They would look at this video and only see North begging Pugh to fuck her harder, to keep going, to hit her because she wanted it, because she wanted _him_ —

“Or?” she prompted. “They look at this and think a top tier Jericho leader is nothing but a _dirty whore?_ Is that what you were going to say, Markus?”

“North—”

“And what do you mean, ‘ _Josh says?’_ You showed Josh this video?”

“Absolutely not!” Markus said. He sounded appalled by the suggestion. The reaction was the only thing North had found comforting thus far. “I would _never,_ North. He was with me when I got it, but I stopped it the very _second_ I knew what it was. I would never do that to you.”

That made her feel a little better: knowing that this was between her and her boyfriend and not all of Jericho. She slumped her shoulders, feeling hopeless and exhausted all at once.

“Even if the humans do see it for what it is,” she started, much softer than before. “What does that mean? What does that make me? Some victim of a crime? Is that all I’ll be known for? Not an android leader who fought in a rebellion but a scared little girl with a tragic past?”

“You know you’re so much more than that,” Markus said. She didn’t want or care for his sympathy. She’d much rather have action and results.

“What are you going to do about him?” she asked, dismissing his attempt to comfort her with words. “Jericho doesn’t have this kind of money and I would never let you pay that much even if we did. So what are you going to do, Markus?”

“Josh thinks it might be best if you… stepped down for a little while. Just until all this blows over.”

“Of course, he fucking does.” North wasn’t surprised to hear that but it still stung. Josh looked at everything with practicality, especially in regards to Jericho’s infrastructure. If this video dropped and the humans viewed it the way they probably would, North remaining in a higher position would be on par with human political sex scandals. Jericho did not need that sort of attention. They couldn’t afford it.

“North, I don’t want that—” Markus started. He probably meant that too. Markus didn’t like shifting things around that worked just for the sake of public opinion. Public opinion in this case, however, could affect their livelihood. More specifically, hers. She would either be seen as a hypocritical whore or a trauma victim; neither would get her the respect she wanted with the humans.

“What _do_ you want then, Markus?” she asked, her anger flaring up again. “Because there really are only two ways to handle this.”

Tears were blurring her vision now, brought on by her frustration and hopelessness because she knew which one of her two propositions her pacifist boyfriend was going to jump on.

“You either pay the prick,” she said. “Pay him off and he’ll leave us alone until he needs more money and then he pulls this shit again—Or _worse!_ Some other pervert does this to another Traci, thinking that Jericho will just shut them up with cash!”

Markus’ face softened and he shook his head, about to say something—probably about how ridiculous that notion was and how he would never allow that to happen, but North cut him off.

 _“Or_ are you going to take action and—” she paused for just a moment, hesitant to continue because she already knew what his reaction was going to be “—and kill him.”

As expected, Markus’ eyes widened and he pulled back in surprise.

“Absolutely not! We can’t do either!” She knew it was coming, knew he was going to say that very thing, but a small part of her had held onto some hope that he would be willing to do this. She should have known better. Markus always put peace and unity before anything and anyone else. Even her. “North, we’ll figure something out, I promise. But we’re not giving in to his demands and we’re _definitely_ not murderers.”

She agreed. That’s what made this harder, honestly. She agreed with him. They weren’t murderers. They weren’t even criminals. They had won the revolution and earned their rights through peace and persistence and North respected all of that...

To an extent.

Peace didn’t solve everything, and she was tired of playing the better person. Especially when every human she ever met gave little-to-no shits for the same formalities.

“So you’re just going to let him do it then?” she asked in a breathy laugh with no amusement. She shook her head in disbelief. “You’re going to let him smear my name by releasing a _rape_ _video_ on the off-chance that that is what the humans will see it as?”

“North,” Markus started, sighing the way he did when he was starting to feel frustrated. “We’re going to get through this—”

North laughed; hollow and angry and dead.

“We?” she asked, tilting her head. “Sorry, where is the ‘we’ in this? How does this affect you exactly?”

“Of course, this affects me,” Markus said. “Anything that hurts you affects me. I want this resolved as much as you do, but we can’t just go around killing people.”

North crossed her arms and turned away from him. The tears she had been holding back had grown too heavy and had spilled over. Markus took a step closer, an arm outstretched in means of comforting her, a gesture to pull her into a hug.

“North,” he started, soft and consoling.

“Don’t!” she hissed. She was so fed up with standing by and doing nothing. Turning the other cheek. Looking the other way. _Forgiving_ —only to get shit on again and again and again. “Don’t you fucking dare, Markus. I don’t want to hear any of your _bullshit_ right now.”

“You’re upset—”

“I am not crying because I am _sad_.” She shoulder-checked him on the way out of the room, done with this conversation. Done with Markus. Done with helplessness and done being the goddamn victim.

She wasn’t sure if she was happy or disappointed that he didn’t follow after her.

* * *

“North, please, I gotta know,” Sixty Anderson said, making his way toward the bench she was sitting on. There was a slight skip in his step and a lopsided grin on his face as he approached her. “Did it hurt?”

It wasn’t unusual for him to start their conversations off with a dorky icebreaker or a joke, but she would have thought cheesy, outdated pickup lines were beneath him. He was here because she had called him, as she often did after she had gotten into an argument with Markus. Or anyone, for that matter. Sixty was a very good android to vent to and an even better friend.

The meeting spot was his choosing. An old children’s park behind Ambassador Bridge. The Detroit River contributed to the gorgeous skyline when lit up at night. They had met here often. She had never thought to ask him why. It had quickly become _t_ _heir_ spot regardless if there had been any significance to it beforehand.

“When I fell from heaven?” she finished the question off lamely and with a roll of her eyes. He reeled back in mock disgust.

“What? No! When you broke free from the earth’s crust after ascending from the darkest depths of hell, you demonic bitch.”

It was the stupidity of it that made her laugh. That, and the drastic difference from the conversation she had just come from. It was almost refreshing to start off a vent session with laughter. She wondered if that’s why Sixty always aimed for it.

He dropped himself in the empty seat beside her on the bench, leaving a good foot and a half of space between them. He was always conscious of her personal space. She had never asked him to be but she appreciated it. Sixty had made it clear long ago he wouldn’t do anything that made her uncomfortable.

Sixty had a crush on her. It was obvious because he had made it so; openly flirting with her, often in front of her friends and sometimes even in Markus’ presence. She wasn’t interested. She had told him so when he finally outright asked her out. She had declined and explained that, despite his many faults, she did love and care for Markus.

They had stayed friends because of his ability to respect that. After the initial shutdown, Sixty had backed off considerably. He still teased her, still questioned Markus’ decisions, still threw out the occasional compliment that would make her blush, but he no longer tried pursuing a romantic relationship with her.

“So, what’s new with you? You roll any heads lately?” he asked after her laughter sobered to light giggles. She took a breath, fully ready to answer with the usual small talk routine that everyone followed: _How are you? I’m fine and you? I’m fine too. That’s good!_

Instead, she went off script and said, “I need a gun.”

 _“Okay,”_ Sixty said with a slight chuckle after stopping to blink in confusion several times. He finally closed his eyes and shook his head, his face pinched in amusement at the abrupt absurdness of her request. “Fucking _w_ _hy?_ ”

Sixty and North had a lot in common, especially in regards to problem-solving and their sense of justice. It was one of the reasons she enjoyed talking to him. He was a very good listener and an even better venting outlet. He never judged her more violent approaches, never pressed for more information when she was off on a rant, never tried to calm her down with reason or devil’s advocate or whatever Markus liked to call it nowadays.

Sixty wasn’t a peacekeeper. He wasn’t the leader of their species. He didn’t have a pacifist reputation to keep up at all times but most importantly, he  _understood._ He understood her hatred and anger and even empathized with her on a level that no one in her inner-circle seemed to grasp.

It was nice… to have someone on her side for a change.

She thought of all of this as she contemplated telling Sixty the truth. He probably wouldn’t judge her now. Probably. She had never outright proposed murder to him, though, and Markus’ reaction was still fresh in her mind. She wasn’t sure she was prepared for the heartache of rejection, no matter how slim the chance, from the android who was arguably her best friend.

So, instead, she asked, “Can you get me one?”

Sixty’s expression remained blank but he held her gaze. His head tilted a bit, like Connor’s does when he’s confused about something, but the glint in his eyes suggested he understood exactly what she was asking of him. If he did, he was playing dumb.

“I could,” he said, slowly. “But… as I’m sure you know, gun laws are a little tighter for us…” He cast her a knowing look, asking a question without asking it. “Even Connor and Nines are still waiting for approval, and they’re fucking police bots. So, depending on when you need it by—?”

He paused to let her answer and made a face when she replied, “Tomorrow night.”

“—depends on if we should register it... at a later date.” He added the last bit in a hurry. An afterthought to keep up the illusion that she had silently asked of him, but he had to know what she wanted a firearm for.

They were silent for a while. It was awkward only because North was making it that way. She was fidgeting in her seat, fighting the urge to come clean and confess everything. Sixty was a detective model despite not being a detective, and his entire family was in law enforcement. He had understood her anger in the past, had sympathized with her pain and hatred of humans and being used for someone else’s gain… but she didn’t think he was going to be on her side with this.

“What if…” she started. It was quiet and she had to look away but she knew she had his attention. “What if… we don’t register it? At all?”

Registering a weapon made it traceable. She couldn’t afford to do that. Not even months after killing Charles Pugh. If her name was even remotely tied to the murder, Jericho would become a tabloid shitshow.

Sixty didn’t look at all surprised by her request. His face was blank and he simply stared at her with dull, unfocused eyes, looking all the world disinterested but she knew what he was doing. Most androids had idle animations to keep the awkward staring from happening while they did whatever internal workings—whether it be updates, scans, searches, etc.—they needed to do. Sixty had been activated with none of those animations (or if he  _had_ , those features were either offline or broken after being shot point-blank in the face during the revolution). He didn’t seem keen on fixing them. It usually didn’t bother North. Usually.

“Android or human?” he finally asked. He had dropped the charade entirely along with the cheery, upbeat tone he usually had whenever he spoke to her. She fought the tremors in her hands but her heart was fluttering in her chest and her stress level had jumped up ten percent.

“Human.”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, making a hissing sound, and turned away. Sixty had gone unnaturally still, back in his head apparently. His fingers were drumming in that fidgety way he got when he needed to mess with his Zippo lighter. He was a very compulsive android and he usually gave in to his urges when they overcame him like this. She wasn’t sure why he wasn’t giving into them now.

She had a feeling he didn’t want to give off the impression he was disregarding her. She also had a feeling that he was going to say something he thought she wouldn’t want to hear. Sixty didn’t treat her like she was damaged or made of glass and he  _definitely_ didn’t hold back on his opinions. It was normally refreshing. Right now it was making her nervous.

“I’ve done it before,” she suddenly blurted. “I’ve killed a man.”

“That was self-defense,” Sixty said, turning back to her. There was absolutely no humor in his tone. She wasn’t sure what to think of that. “You’re talking about murder. You want to murder a man, North. That’s different.”

“According to the police?”

“According to psychology.” He was strangely defiant. It was out of character for him to be (not only against her) but _this_ serious about _any_ subject. It was jarring and while Markus had said something incredibly similar, Sixty’s words held more weight behind them. “This isn’t you defending yourself in the heat of the moment. This is premeditated, thought out, illegal… If you get caught—”

“I would never allow that to happen.” She wouldn’t. Couldn’t. There was far too much at stake. Too many people that relied on her and her name. Sixty was right. She should just bite the bullet and let Charles Pugh release the tape. The knot she had been feeling in the pit of her stomach all day suddenly squeezed tighter. She felt sick.

“Can you even fight?” Sixty randomly asked. He had never used tone with her and while it was off-putting.

“Of course I can fight. I fought in the revolution with Markus,” she said and just because she didn’t like or appreciate his tone, she added, “Against _you_ , I might add.”

Sixty rolled his eyes.

“I’m not talking about fighting for your right to party, North,” he said. “I’m talking about actually _defending_ yourself. Not Josh’s hippy hug-thyself bullshit that he preaches in your Jericho circle-jerk meetings.”

She gave him a face but he continued before she could stop him.

“If your target… this human—say he knows how to fight. Say he hits you—”

“I get it, Six…” she said. She sighed and turned away, actually feeling incredibly foolish for even bringing it up.

“Right in the face, across the lip. Stuns all your systems long enough for another hit—how do you recover from that?” She wouldn’t realize until later that he wasn’t mocking her but was genuinely asking. Now, though, she glared at him in annoyance.

“I know how to fight.”

“Prove it,” he said. He got up off the bench and beckoned her to follow suit. “Hit me.”

She gave him a funny look and rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious. Hit me.”

“As much as I would  _love_ to hit you right now, Sixty Anderson,” she said before gesturing around them. “We’re out in public.”

Sixty shrugged. He looked up at the playground and then behind him.

“Like, four people,” he said. “It’s peak work hours. No one important is around and if your fighting is what I think it is then we really have nothing to worry about now, do we?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It _means,_ ” Sixty started. He leaned forward, his hands on his knees so he was level with her but his tone had shifted to a manic mocking that he usually reserved for Josh or Detective Reed. “That if you want me to get you a gun, you better fucking prove to me you’re old enough to handle it, little girl.”

She slapped him, clear across the face and without any thought: an involuntary action brought on from her frustrations. It caused his head to snap to the side and he stumbled several steps before regaining his bearings. She had known he was baiting her, trying to get her to throw the first hit and she was angry with herself for falling for it. Falling for his stupid antics.

“Fuck, Six… are you okay?” North asked. Her concern was real even though she was still mad at him. Sixty had been shot point-blank in the head and to this day, he still needed repairs and constant maintenance checks on his processor and psyche because of it.

He looked back at her with a manic grin and a crazed look in his eye. She had seen both on him before but never had they been directed at her.

“Oh, North…” he started, slow and almost sadistically. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

She was charging him before she even realized it. He easily countered it. Along with all of her kicks and punches, headbutts, bites, scratches… he never once made a move to hit her, but he wasn’t holding back on his grapples and takedowns. There were a few times (at least three) when they took their fight to the ground and in the scuffle, he had ended up on top of her. That lasted for less than a second as he was quick to barrel-roll them over, switching their positions so she would be pinning him down instead.

By the end, they were on the ground; sprawled out, panting, and with blue blood flushing through their cheeks as their overworked systems fought to cool their bodies down.

“A ghost gun would work better,” he randomly said. “I could make one for you. Ammunition too. We don’t leave prints, so disposal would be just as easy. Just chuck it somewhere when you’re done. Even if it was found, they couldn’t do shit about it. But…” He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her face. “If you got hurt—if you bleed, even a little… Connor and Nines would be able to trace it back to you.”

“I won’t get hurt,” she said. He didn’t look convinced. The LED on his temple had actually flickered red for a blink or two and he examined her face with a worried expression.

“Wear multiple layers,” he finally said but he was frowning. He wasn’t comfortable with this idea, she could tell, but he wasn’t going to convince her not to go. She respected that. “It will lessen the chances of spilled Thirium. Your clothes will help soak up the blood.”

“Okay.”

“And hide your face. A hoodie, scarf, fucking duct tape—anything. Literally anything. Just make sure it’s covered.  If CCTV sees your face, we can identify you.”

The ‘we’ in that sentence meant the RK series, more specifically his brothers: Connor and Nines. She nodded. She understood. Facial recognition had gotten her in this mess to begin with. She had already planned to be on guard around cameras. She wasn’t going to make that mistake.

“I won’t get caught,” she said, and she meant that. She couldn’t afford to get caught. She had a lot to lose if she did. She had a lot to lose if she didn’t do this.

“North… I can’t come with you.” He sounded genuinely upset by that, but she had never once expected that of him. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. “If it were just on me, I would be right by your side, but… my dad. My brothers. They’re all DPD. I can’t risk—”

“I understand, Six,” she said and she really, truly did. This was her problem and she had planned on taking care of it herself. “You are already doing far more than anyone else.”

That was the painful truth. She propped herself up on her elbows, trying to see his face, but he had closed his eyes and was once again deep in thought.

“I’m not okay with this,” he admitted. “But I’ll let you go. I won’t try and stop you. I’ll even make you the gun... On one condition.”

North tensed, unsure what Sixty could possibly want from her. The pessimistic part of her immediately went to the worst scenarios. She killed them immediately. He had never once asked her to do something she was uncomfortable with. He had always respected her choices. Even now, he was giving her a choice—a fighting chance—to deal with a problem that was entirely her own. It felt invigorating.

“Meet me here when you’re done. I… I need to know you’re… okay. Safe.” He had turned away but she could still see his face, specifically his cheeks that were dusted blue from a blush. “I don’t need details or rundowns. You don’t have to confess anything either… I just need to know you’re okay.”

It took her a while to say something to that because she wasn’t quite sure what to say. That was… oddly sweet, even with the context.

“Okay,” she whispered. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Okay. I can do that.”

This was really happening. She wasn’t sure what to make of it but the excitement was starting to bubble in her chest and a smile was twitching at her lips.

“I’ll text you the coordinates,” he added. “I’ll tell you where I’ll leave it. You should be able to find it no problem. I’ll have it ready by tomorrow.”

“...Thank you.”

He grunted in response. It was clear how much he really,  _really_ didn’t like this idea. The idea of sending her off on her own to deal with a potential threat. He didn’t even know all the details. He had never even asked. The details hadn’t mattered to him. North needed a gun to murder someone. That was all he had needed to know.

He sat up and dragged his hand down his face.

“...Please be safe,” he mumbled behind his hand. He was looking out at the river, lost in thought and worry. She couldn’t help but smile at his sincerity.

“I will,” she said, sitting up too. She placed a hand on his knee and gave it a light shake, gaining his attention. “I promise.”

He gave her a weak smile and let out a sigh before rocking himself to his feet.

“I guess there’s really no time to waste then, huh?” he asked as he brushed imaginary dirt from his pants. “Wouldn’t want to give you a dud or some shit, right?”

“I’m sure whatever you give me will work perfectly fine, Anderson,” North said with a grin.

“Pfft! Says you,” he said, turning to leave. He waved his hand in the air, dismissively, while shouting over his shoulder, “Just for that, I’m going to make you a little peashooter outta rubber bands. See how far that gets you!”

North laughed and shook her head.

“I have a little more faith in you than that,” North shouted back. There was a giggle in her voice that she didn’t even try to hide.

Sixty quickly spun around to face her, both his hands were finger guns and he bobbed his thumbs down to shoot them at her.

“Pew, pew, pew!” he said. “Got ya, North. Better be on your A-game for the real thing, you know.”

North rolled her eyes and snorted. “Could you be any more of a dork?”

He gawked at her, both hands jumped to his heart as if he had been truly offended. It earned another burst of giggles from North.

“North, I’m hurt! How could you?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief while walking backward, still heading in the direction from before. “I’m making you something illegal from  _scratch_ and yet still with the name-calling? North _Pole_ is what they should call you. Because you’re so _cold!_ ”

“Get out of here, you doofus!” she shouted after him with another laugh. He forced a shiver and let out a _Brrrrr!_ like the dramatic dork that he was, but spun on his heel and continued to make his way home.

North waited until he disappeared from her view before she turned to leave in the opposite direction. She felt much lighter and hopeful than she had before…

Happy, she realized when she was roughly halfway home. For the first time in a long time, she was happy.

* * *

 She had followed Sixty’s advice on layering up and he had followed through with his promise. The gun had been where he said it would be and after she unwrapped it from the fabric he had hidden it in, she couldn’t help but admire how much work he had put into it. For a gun created and put together in a day, it was absolutely stunning.

A small, blue sticky note was stuck to its hammer and written out in perfect, CyberLife-standard font, read:

_Roll some heads! <3 _

She smiled to herself, a warmth blooming in her chest as she folded the note in half, pocketed it and then turned her full attention to the gun. Now that she was here, now that this was happening, the full weight of it was starting to hit her.

This was hers. Truly, entirely hers. Her decision. Her choice. She could handle this problem— _her_ problem— however, she wanted. Markus didn’t have a say. Josh didn’t have a say. Sixty had given her the tools to take back her life—to handle this problem herself—but he had left it to her. She felt so giddy, so damn free and exhilarated that for the first time, she thought she might not even kill Charles Pugh. She had options. Options and choices that weren’t tied down by rules or regulations. It was… so _damn_ refreshing.

She made her way to Pugh’s drop off point, more alert than she had ever been in her life. She didn’t expect him to be there but meeting up with Charles wasn’t actually her intention with stopping there first.

She wanted to see if Markus had left anything. A morbid curiosity, one that she felt would piss her off regardless of its conclusion. She hadn’t spoken to him since their fight but he had reached out several times through texts trying to see how she was doing and offering her ideas on how to handle the situation—most of them involved just going to the police.

She didn’t want to go to the police. And she had already found a way to handle the situation. Another wave of emotions washed over her frame: adrenaline if she were human. It brought a sense of power and control that she had always yearned for. She had always known she was alive but this… she could actually _feel_ this.

She hid the firearm in her many layers. It was still easily accessible to her should she need it but upon first glance, no one would be able to tell she was armed. In fact, no one would be able to tell who she was at all. She looked more like a homeless human than a Jericho leader. She had really taken Sixty’s advice to heart.

Pugh’s drop off location was dimly lit and beyond filthy. A seldom used underpass that wasn’t too far from his actual home. Just another way of showing how overconfident the man was with his anonymity assumptions. The very _second_ North had identified him in the video, her processors had pulled up his address. A house that was littered with dirty laundry and take out boxes from work—the only place the fat fuck ever ate at. She shivered in disgust. She would deal with the house (and ultimately Pugh) in a minute. First things first.

There was an envelope on the wall of the underpass. The first arch, dead center and taped in place. It was the only thing in the area that was pristine and white, making it all the more noticeable. Her heart sank at the sight of it.

Her first thought was Markus or someone else from Jericho. They had complied with Pugh’s demands and had left him the cash—where they had gotten it was beyond North. Simon handled most of the finances and he was always bitching about money. There was no way they had scraped together the funds to pay off Charles…

She dismissed the idea when she approached it. The envelope wasn’t fat enough for cash. It wasn’t fat enough for much, save the USB drive she found when she opened it. Puzzled, she inspected it closer and found a neatly folded note along with the stick.

> _North,_
> 
> _I thought I could do this but I can’t. I just really needed the money. I’m leaving town and hoping to move on from all my mistakes. Hopefully, this will let you do the same._
> 
> _I’m so sorry._
> 
> __-_ Chuckie _

* * *

Sixty was standing on the railing, looking out at the river with a blank expression. There was something in his hand that he was absent-mindedly fiddling with, rolling it over and over again in his palm…

It had to be his lighter. She rarely saw him without the thing. The only exception had been yesterday afternoon. She knew she had put him in an awkward situation. She had thrown him off guard and out of his usual habits. She was glad to see she hadn’t rattled him too badly.

“Hey,” she said, leaning to the side, against the railing, to gain his attention. His head snapped to her, a look of surprise on his face that he had to blink away.

“Hey—Hi!” he said and then let out a breathy laugh. He pocketed his lighter and stepped down from the railing to make his way over to her. “You’re… here. You came.”

She wasn’t sure why he was so surprised by that. It had been his only condition to helping her out, hadn’t it?

“Yep… I’m here,” she said. He took a step toward her but suddenly thought better of it, quickly pulling back.

“How um… how did it go?” he asked, only to hold up his hands and quickly shake his head. “No, wait. You don't have to tell me. You’re here, so you must have… succeeded. But you don’t have to give me the details.”

She grinned, suddenly overcome with the urge to hug him. She lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing him tight. He froze, as she expected, but recovered quickly. His arms dropped down in a loose embrace, returning the hug less awkwardly than she would have expected from him. She could hear his Thirium Pump pounding away in his chest. It made her smile all the more with glee.

“Thank you,” she said before she said anything else because he needed to be thanked. Her own boyfriend hadn’t even been willing to help her out, but Sixty had risked so muchto at least give her a fighting chance.

“I… take it everything went well?” he asked, leaning back to better see her expression. She beamed up at him with a wide grin.

“Better than expected,” she said. “I didn’t have to do a thing.”

Sixty was quiet for a moment, mulling that over before he realized what it meant.

“You didn’t kill him?” he asked. She bit her bottom lip and shook her head, finally pulling away from the hug.

“No. I didn’t,” she said. “He no-showed.”

Sixty’s eyebrows rose and he blinked his eyes wide in disbelief.

“No-showed?”

“Yeah, I guess he had a change of heart,” she said with a shrug. “He left an apology note and everything. Even added the USB, unedited. His face is clear as day.”

She pulled the stick out of her pocket and held it up to show him. It had been sketchy to her at first, no doubt. She actually hadn’t believed it at all. Not at first, anyway. She had gone to Charles’ house and found his things all packed and missing. She sat on the edge of his bed for nearly an hour, trying to wrap her mind around what the fuck had actually occurred. It didn’t start to hit her until she made her way back to the park.

“Everything worked out just fine,” she said that with a light laugh. He smiled at her—a genuine smile she had never seen on him before and she found herself dropping her gaze to the ground. She suddenly didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she pulled her hair behind her ear and fought against the blue blush that was creeping up her cheeks. “That never happens to me. It’s a bizarre feeling. Nice… but bizarre.”

“I can imagine,” Sixty said softly. He was still watching her with a strange fascination. “I’m really glad you’re okay, North. And that everything worked out without any trouble. That’s… that’s incredible.”

He gave a breathy laugh and ran a shaky hand through his hair. He had truly been worried about her. Realizing that made her heart flutter in her chest. She awkwardly coughed in hopes of making it go away.

“What should I do with this?” she asked, repocketing the USB and taking out the gun he had made for her. Sixty stared at it for a moment before looking back out at the river. A mischievous grin stretched across his face when he turned back to her.

“Bet you can’t skip it like a stone,” he said.

“Wouldn’t it be more like a boomerang?” she asked, looking at the weapon in her hand. There was a playful smile on her face that made Sixty’s breathing sequence stutter. She pretended not to notice.

“I suppose it would be,” he said in a breath. He shook his head to clear it and added with more conviction, “You should still be able to make it skip, though. If you throw it right.”

She looked down at the gun with a puzzled expression and then gave him a sheepish look. He grinned and took a step closer.

“Here, let me… or…” he stopped, just short of wrapping his arms around her. “May I?”

She playfully rolled her eyes and snorted.  
  
“Yes, you dork.” Fucking Sixty Anderson. Always so self-conscious of her personal space...

“Okay, so the trick is—” he pressed his cheek against hers to better align himself with her view “—to throw it at an angle, alright? You’re going to chuck it downward, but when you let go, you gotta flick your wrist. Like this—” he held his hand out next to her, showing her the motion “—got it?”

“Got it,” she said. He stepped back, giving her more space and she focused on the water. Right before she threw it, she snorted and giggled, “Watch me flop this so hard!”

He grinned, “Nah! You’re a pro!”

She looked back at him, holding his gaze before she felt another blush coming on that forced her to turn back to the river. She was mindful of the railing and her calibrations were nothing compared to his (or _any_ non-Traci model for that matter) but she pulled her arm back and flung the gun out into the waves exactly the way he had shown her.

It spun several times, skipping the surface once, then twice, before it was swallowed by a passing wave.

“AH! I did it!” she cheered, jumping in the air and spinning around to face him. At the same time, he shouted, “YES!” and threw his arms up in excitement.

It left him open for another hug, one she quickly gave into. He had tensed the second time too but recovered much more quickly than he had before. They stayed that way for a moment. Again, North was the first to pull away.

“I should… probably get going,” she said, throwing a thumb over her shoulder in the direction she had come from.

“I hear ya,” he said, bobbing his head in understanding. “Hank hasn’t summoned me home yet. I gotta get the peace where I can. Connor could talk my audial off—I swear it.”

She giggled and looked out at the bridge, at the water… for the first time, it actually looked beautiful. Peaceful. _Worth_ something.  

“Thank you, Sixty,” she said, speaking softly. When she saw his eyebrows pinched together in confusion she added, “...for having my back.”

He stared at her, that same questionable expression on his face for a heartbeat or two (she knew this only because she was oddly aware of her own heartbeat at the moment).

“Of course,” he said at last. He didn’t smile because he meant that. _Of course,_  he had her back. _There was never another option._

She found she was at a loss for words but he didn’t seem to be expecting any from her. She appreciated that. Markus was a ‘need-to-know’ guy. It wasn’t necessarily a bad trait but there tended to be a lot about herself, especially in regards to her emotions, that she didn’t know how to put into words.

“Goodnight, Six,” she said with a shy smile. He returned the gesture with a bob of his head and one of his lopsided grins before turning back to the Detroit River. He was leaning against the railing again, exactly the same way he had been when she found him.

She felt giddy as she turned on her heel and headed back toward Jericho. Happy and free in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.  
  
She couldn’t stop smiling the entire walk back to Jericho.

* * *

 Sixty had waited a full ten minutes after North was no longer in sight before he reached back into his pocket for the trinket that North had assumed was his infamous Zippo lighter.

It was not his Zippo lighter.

It was a ring.

A gold, class ring; engraved with a graduating year that was several decades old now. The high school name was wrapped around the obnoxiously shined ruby and Charles Pugh’s blood was still encrusted deep in the grooves of the design…

He had kept it as a way to reassure North in the event that she didn’t believe the note he had left her. It had taken him nearly an hour to get Charles’ handwriting accurate enough to pass off as genuine. He actually had to search the house to find samples to work off of. The real Chuckie Pugh had been shaking too bad to pass anything off as legible.

It hadn’t been difficult to pin a name to the man that was threatening North. At least, not for an android that was built to be a detective. All he had to do was backtrack Jericho’s security feeds until he found Charles delivering his blackmail. Sixty’s facial recognition gave him the rest; address, place of employment, criminal record…

Sixty had gotten it all.

His eyes flicked up to the river and he took a step back, away from the railing and onto the sidewalk. He pulled his arm back and pitched the band a fair distance into the waters; losing it forever amongst the waves.

He waited a moment longer before deciding to make his way back home. It was getting late and someone in his family was sure to ping him about his whereabouts soon. He sighed and shoved his hands into his pocket, toying with the Zippo for real this time.

About ten minutes in, he pulled up the memories from today: North texting him to meet at the park, North sparring with him, North in his arms, beaming up at him with a light blush across her face and joy in her eyes that was seldom there…

He replayed it on a loop the entire walk home.

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this for an embarrassingly long time and I'm proud to finally be posting it. Sixty has become somewhat of an obsession for me and I have been getting _way_ too much joy from writing out shenanigans involving him. If you're interested in _MORE_ Sixty content (or the Detroit fandom in general), consider joining the New Era Discord: https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm
> 
> Regardless if I see you there or not, I wanna thank you SO very much for taking the time to read this. I truly appreciate it :)
> 
> \- Redd


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